A Minute Of Silence
by Vix Bettison
Summary: Nikki thinks she is finally settled, but will a new face at Waterloo Road stir up her past? What would the effects of this be? Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, this is my first published fanfiction. Whoo! I know this first chapter is really, really short, but they will get much, much longer (promise!). I hope to put up a couple of chapters of this over the next week or so, and then hopefully have weekly/fortnightly updates. Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading!**

It was a Thursday morning when Nikki first noticed her. Barry Barry had spent the morning kicking off, so Miss Boston had been forced to bring her class out for a few unscheduled laps of the schoolyard. As Nikki had leant against the wall, shouting encouragement at her moaning students, she happened to glance across the field at a group of Year 6 girls playing netball.

Glinting in the sunlight, her deep chestnut hair was the first thing to catch Nikki's attention. Gracefully and nimbly, the blue centre intercepted the ball, landing a little off balance, but quickly correcting and pivoting neatly to pass the ball back in the direction of play. When the WD moved in to receive the ball, something in the back of Nikki's brain registered the commendable use of set-play, however all of her conscious senses were focused on the girl and the odd sense of familiarity Nikki felt towards her.

After watching the game for a few more minutes, Nikki had formed a few conclusions about the girl: she was powerful, both intercepting and receiving the ball with the surprisingly effective technique of simply out-accelerating her opponent; she was skilled, performing ever move calculatedly, moving to create space not only for herself but for others, landing perfectly on the balls of her feet every time she moved for the ball; and, finally, she was versatile, changing flawlessly between attack and defense, and excelling in both.

A goal was scored, although Nikki could not tell you who by. One, solitary moment of peace fell over the court as the girl waited for the rest of her team to take their places onside. Just as she stepped into the circle, she gave one final command to her comrades.

Luckily, the wind was in Nikki's favour and carried the words to her: "Come on girls, keep up with the set-play!"

Breath caught in Nikki's throat, as the voice echoed a deep memory around her head. That voice - a unique blend of Southern accent and Northern stress - pulled a wave of emotion over her, staring with excitement, then shock, then a crushing blow of sadness. She had only heard that voice once before.

"Are we done yet, Miss?" Rhiannon's grumble brought Nikki out of her trance.

Nikki swallowed a little, recomposing herself, "Yes Rhiannon, you can go back inside now."


	2. Chapter 2

**So here, as promised is the next chapter. I apologise in advance for my horrific analysis of Shakespeare, English Lit is the bane of my life! Thanks for sticking with me and please drop in a review if you like it (or if you don't, constructive criticism).**

**Realised I didn't put a disclaimer in the first chapter, but I'm writing fanfiction for goodness sake, you can take it as read.**

"So, what brings you to Waterloo Road?"

"My brother just died, so I had to move in with my grandmother."

There was an awkward pause. "That's sad, how did he die?"

Katherine braced herself before speaking, "He was in the army."

A storm of questions bombarded her. One boy grinned commenting, "That's sick, how many people did he kill?"

It was a question she had been asked a million times, first regarding her mother and then, more recently, her brother. It was a question she never wanted to answer.

"I...It's not really relevant," she stumbled over her words.

"It must be great to fight in wars," the same boy continued (Katherine fought to remember his name. Larry?), "Killing terrorists with big machine guns." He and a friend set about pretending to shoot each other with invisible guns.

"Well, I think war is horrible. You can't just kill people like that, it doesn't solve anything," a girl, Lula, added, "The soldiers are as guilty as criminals; they should be locked up!"

A wave of fury washed over Katherine. "War is no joke!" she yelled, "I lost my mum and my brother out there, fighting to defend their country and the lives of innocent people. And," she turned to Lula, "My mother argued for peace as much as the next person. She wanted it more than anyone else in the world. But she saved more innocent civilians out there than she killed, so don't you DARE talk about something you know nothing about!"

As Katherine finished her outburst, she became more and more aware of someone standing behind her. Scared as well as frustrated, she spun around coming face to face with the teacher she had spotted across the playground earlier.

Disapproval was etched into the older woman's face. Tightly knitted brows framed her blue-grey eyes over a pair of thin flushing lips. Her harsh stance intimidated Katherine; the young girl shivered.

The teacher's eyes, however, showed something a little different. Empathy? Pity, perhaps? Or just a pure understanding?

"Inside. Now." The woman growled. The class scurried to act upon her instruction. Swinging the door shut with a reverberating bang, the teacher followed. "When I arrive at a class, I expect my students to be lined up silently waiting for me, not arguing at the top of their voices. Understood?"

Sheepishly, the class nodded.

"Alright, open Macbeth to Act 1, Scene 5..."

Katherine's nose wrinkled at the sight of the tattered old paperback on the desk before her. Goodness, she thought to herself, can't they afford some decent books? Nevertheless, she dutifully flipped to the correct page in the text. At least she would be able to relax this lesson. After all, she had both studied and directed the play at her old school.

Thus, instead of paying any attention to Miss Boston's quiz on the text, she instead focused on the woman herself. Deep brown locks were gripped back behind her ears, framing an angular face. Blemish less, her complexion shone under the artificial lights. Thin lips were a coloured a gentle shade of coral, and, as she breathed out she ran her tongue over them, leaving them perfectly moist.

"Miss Taylor, seeing as you clearly don't need to pay attention to the text, I'm sure you'll be able to explain to the rest of the class the meaning of the phrase 'Hie thee hither'."

Katherine started a little at the question aimed at her. Her brow furrowed slightly, "It means 'Come here quickly' and it shows that Lady Macbeth is excited at the witches' prophecy and is anxious to act on it."

"Good." was the only reply her teacher gave, before swiftly moving on to quiz another member of the class.

The girl sat next to her leant over to Katherine, "Good one, that really showed Boston up."

Something caught in Katherine's head: that name. Boston was a name she knew so well. Could it be?

Normally, Nikki's few lessons with Year 6 English were her week's salvation. As much as she liked the PRU, she found it nice to occasionally escape the constant high pressure environment, even if it was only because of staffing shortages.

Today, however, something was bugging her. Ever since she had spotted her on the netball court, the young Taylor (Katherine, the register had revealed to her) and her presence had bothered her. Nikki was now in no doubt as to who the young girl was, but she was very determined not to let emotion get in the way of her professional conduct.

Now she was closer, Nikki could make out more features of the girl: the slight curve of her nose; the fullness of her lips; the scattering of chocolate freckles across her cheeks. Another thing that struck Miss Boston was the width of her young shoulders. The girl was well built, muscular, but still well proportioned, and, although she couldn't see it, Nikki knew a tones abdomen was concealed under the girl's school shirt.

A shrill ringing pierced the air. Students exploded, gathering belongings, chattering at twice the volume necessary.

"Alright, I haven't said you can go yet," Nikki boomed. A little hush fell over the class, "I'm expecting three paragraphs on what Scene 5 reveals about Lady Macbeth for Thursday. You can go now."

The class emitted a chorus of grumbles, and continued to shuffle around with their bags, stuffing things in haphazardly.

Nikki lowered her voice considerably, "Katherine, stay behind a minute."

Gradually, the rest of the students filled out of the room, adding to the pile of books strewn on Miss Boston's desk as they did so. Nikki was too distracted to chastise them.

After what seemed like an age, Nikki and Katherine were left alone in the room. Nikki took a deep breath and opened her mouth, as if to speak...

Katherine beat her to it, interrupting with a fact Nikki had been trying to deny to herself:

"My mum was your Officer Commanding."

**I should also apologise; I have no idea how the army works and am going purely off what little I have researched. I'm sorry about any mistakes I may make.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed this so far! I really appreciate it!**

**So, guys, here's chapter 3! Sorry for the incredibly long flashback in this. Originally, it was going to be much shorter, but then it kind of took over the entire chapter. Also, I should point out in this fic is set in series 9b, and everything before then followed the show, but from this point I'm going to pick and choose which bits of the show I'm going to use. (If that makes sense.) **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

"My mum was your Officer Commanding."

Nikki felt like a brick wall had slammed into her. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer; her face flushed hot; and she struggled for words.

"What?" she breathed out.

"My mum was your Officer Commanding, wasn't she?" Katherine repeated, "Major Alison Taylor."

Nikki was now really struggling to control her breathing. She didn't want to think about this. She had managed not to think about this for so long, and now this, this girl had turned up to pull up the past.

Slowly, the girl reached into her pocket, pulling out a set of keys. She laid them gently on the desk. Unconsciously, Nikki's hand sprung to a plastic key ring, lifting it closer, so she could see the picture more clearly.

The image was of two young women in army uniform, laughing and smiling. One of the women was clearly herself; the other bore a striking resemblance to the girl stood before her. Nikki took a moment to absorb the familiar woman's features: the curve of her nose; the pink of her cheeks (they always went like that when she laughed, Nikki recalled); the line of her heart shaped face.

Appreciating the feel of the cold, smooth plastic against her palm, Nikki flipped the key ring over in her hand. On the reverse, a handwriting Nikki hadn't seen in years read: _'Maj. Ali Taylor and Capt. Nikki Boston, near Tal Afar'._

As she stared down at these words, in a painful silence, Nikki's attention was drawn to another plastic key ring attached by a shiny steel ring to the remainder of the keys. This held a much more formal portrait of a soldier in uniform. This portrait was of a young male, who seemed about twenty years old.

Striking chocolate eyes were nestled under some of the thickest eyebrows Nikki had ever seen. He was the height of masculinity: a chiselled jaw and muscles straining against his uniform. The picture perfect soldier; the picture perfect man.

Hesitantly, Nikki again turned this key ring in her palm, know what she would see. Sure enough, the reverse – this time in a swirly joined hand that she could only assume to be Katherine's – read: _Lance Corporal Jacob Taylor 01.04.1993 – 26.10.2013._

A breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped Nikki. With sorrow tugging a little at her chest, she allowed her eyes to slip closed, taking a moment to reflect...

_Sunlight streamed down from a golden sky. Earlier that day, strong winds had chased any lingering echoes of clouds from the sky._

_Nikki sat pinned to a sun lounger by an woman four years her senior, not that you'd know it from the way she was giggling like a five year old._

"_C'mon Nik, sit still, sit still!" she blurted between laughs._

_Nikki sighed, defeated, "I'll stay still if you get off, Ali" Pretending to be annoyed was tiring and an inkling of a smile crept into the edges of Nikki's mouth._

_Much of the last half an hour had been spent with Alison attempting to persuade Nikki to sit down and enjoy the summer sunshine. Nikki was determined otherwise. What was the point in sitting still when she could be doing something useful?_

_Mere moments after Ali had returned to her own sun lounger, a small cry came from the other side of the garden, "Mum, can you give me a push?"_

_Before Ali could even manage to push herself up off her sun lounger, Nikki had already covered the entire length of the green space. The young woman flashed a grin at the ten year old stood next to a flimsy garden swing._

"_I'll push you, Jake, if you'd rather?" Nikki offered._

_A grin and nod were given as a reply. Nimbly, the young boy hopped onto the swing._

"_Nikki, you're supposed to be relaxing!" came a feeble protest from Alison, knowing it would fall on deaf ears._

_Nikki had always loved pushing swings. The steady rhythm reassured her and calmed her somehow. She could have stayed there , relaxed, forever, pushing the swing back and forth in the quiet gold of the garden._

_However, Jake's voice broke the silence, "Are you going back over there with Mum, Nikki?"_

_Nikki was pulled back to earth with a jolt, "Yes." In what seemed like far too little time, they were due to be deployed to Iraq._

"_I think you're very brave, going out there, you know?" He paused, "Not just because of the guns and the danger and everything, but because of how long you're away from your families too. You must have to be really strong to be on your own like that. I'd like to be that strong someday."_

_A voice came from behind them, "It's not really like that, Jakey boy. We have each other, and we're all in the same position. And we have a job to do."_

_Nikki turned around to face her friend. Clung to Ali's leg was a little girl in a pair of jeans, muddy (as always) green t-shirt and pigtails. Although Katherine had met Nikki many, many times before, she still seemed wary of the woman._

_Ali detached the limpet from her leg and spun Katherine around, holding her shoulders so she had to face Nikki. Like a white dwarf, the girl imploded inwards, with her chin shooting straight to her chest, so she could only peep at Nikki from beneath the shadow of her bobbing pigtails._

"_Oh, Katie, don't be silly, it's only Nikki."_

_The girl simply shook her head and stuck her thumb in her mouth._

_Jake chastised his sister, "You're such a wuss! Nikki's really cool; she's in the army like Mum! I'm gonna be in the army too one day! Mum said I could!" _

By a gently hand place on her arm, Nikki snapped back into the present.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Katherine asked, her face riddled with concern.

Slowly, Nikki realised the source of Katherine's concern: Nikki was breathing very heavily; and had begun to shake with emotion.

After a second to compose herself, Nikki managed to force out, "Yes...Please, go." Katherine remained riveted to the ground, seeming unwilling to leave her clearly distressed teacher. "GO, NOW!" Nikki yelled.

The young Taylor hesitated again, but, with one last glance over her shoulder, she made her way out of the classroom. It took all Nikki's strength to hold it together until she had gone.

With her student safely in the corridor, Nikki allowed her shaking knees to collapse, slumping down into her office chair. Lapped of all energy she had ever possessed, she could do nothing but sob.

So, she sobbed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another chapter that didn't end quite where I planned. A fun titbit, in French the word for nightmare is cauchemar, which is one of my favourite words ever.**

**On a more serious note, I want to add a **WARNING **for this chapter, which **contains violence and death. **I don't think any description is too vivid, but I thought I put a warning to be safe. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Katherine pulled herself into consciousness. A lingering sense of unease settled over her, caused by her awful dream, memories of which were already fragmenting and dissolving. Every night for as long as she could remember, Katherine had had the dream.

The dream had changed and evolved a little over time, but it was always in the forest. The forest was not dark; it was not cold; it was not, as far as conscious Katherine could tell, in any way menacing. Yet, it always instilled a sense of fear in her.

The dream always began with a beautiful black angel, a beautiful black angel running and shrieking. Like always, Katherine would follow, sprinting as quickly as she could. Gradually, people would appear alongside them, also apparently fleeing for their lives. Who this was varied throughout the years, but they had always included her mother and, since his death, her brother.

They pounded through the forest for what seemed like an age. Naked of leaves, the trees stood tall and proud. However, there was never any sign of animal life.

Finally, they were always joined by a little blonde girl, who always seemed to struggle to keep up with the adults and risk falling behind. Kind as ever, Katherine would take her hand and help her along.

Eventually, the entire party would reach the edge of the forest, coming out into clear bright light. A shriek from the black angel symbolised the dream was nearly at its close. As everyone else threw themselves to the ground, Katherine would cast herself over the little girl, her last instinct always being to protect her.

Then, she would wake up.

After waking from the dream, Katherine had found she could never return to the blissful abyss of sleep. Instead, she had leant to find little ways to use her early morning hours.

Sighing, Katherine swung her legs out of bed, flicking on her bedside lamp. Frigid air hit her like a deafening wave, paralysing her. Tentatively, she felt around the floor for a soft swathe of material with her foot.

After determining what she was looking for was not within reach, she sighed again and pushed herself completely out of bed. From her standing position, she could spot her tattered dressing gown lying abandoned in the corner of the room. Nevertheless, she overlooked it, now quickly slipping into a pair of cycling shorts, and a clean rugby shirt that had clearly never seen the field of play.

Next, she pushed her feet into a pair of trainers (her best ones). Flicking off the bedside light as she did so, she grabbed the keys and mobile from her chest of draws. Two at a time she leapt down the stairs, but not before noting the time glowing gently from her clock – four fifteen am, the earliest this week.

At the bottom of the stairs, she hastily grabbed her florescent running jacket. It took Katherine a few minutes to struggle with the lock, but, finally, she was free from the house, from her nightmare, from the world.

She set off at a steady jog, guided by the sulphurous pools of light cast by the streetlamps lining the suburban street. Chill sea air consumed her, filled her lungs to the brim, and froze her inside and out. Beneath her, the steady rhythm of pounding feet upon tarmac kept her focused.

Nothing in the world mattered more to Katherine than putting one foot in front of the other. There was no room for thought. There was no room for fear. Under the influence of the one, two, one, two that reverberated throughout the empty road, her earlier unease began to dissipate.

When she reached the end of the road, Katherine took a left turn onto the seafront. The wind was much stronger here; it tossed strands of Katherine's loose hair into her face. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wished she had tied it back.

Minutes passed and slowly Katherine felt the lactic acid begin the build up in her muscles as the screamed out for precious oxygen. Often, she would now turn back, wary her body would have to work again later in the day. Today, however, she was determined to push herself. Despite the early hour, the prospect of a challenge excited her.

As she drove herself harder and further, she realised she had never come this far down the promenade, at least not in the dark. She was sure she must have been here in the daylight, but the night warped her surroundings, disorienting her.

Just as she was beginning to consider turning back, she rounded a sharp bend, straight into something solid. A person. None other than her English teacher.

"Miss Boston?"

_Nikki was walking. She had been walking for miles, army kit lying heavy on her back. Somewhere above her, a blistering sun was burning, appearing to melt the world and make it a little fuzzier. Her feet were throbbing; her head was pounding. She knew she could not go on much longer._

_Then, out of the blue, she was in a tight, but homely, space. Before she had fully grasped her surroundings, a slight bang, penetrated the room from outside. This caught the attention of the other occupant of the room: Alison Taylor. _

_In an instant, Nikki knew what going to happen. In an instant, Nikki was helpless. She couldn't run. She couldn't scream. She couldn't help. She could only watch for the millionth time as Maj. Alison Taylor was thrown across the room by the force of a bomb blast. She could only watch for the millionth time as Maj. Alison Taylor's head was slammed against the wall, a crushing blow from which it would never recover._

Nikki pulled herself into consciousness, reeling from the nightmare. Gasping for air, she untangled her legs from the covers snaked around her and wiped the sweat pouring from her brow. Still in the pitch-black, she stumbled to the tiny bathroom.

Here, she clawed at the air until her fingers made contact with a familiar cord, upon which she tugged. Harsh and bright, an artificial orange filled the space. Leaning over the basin, Nikki splashed water in her face, trying to recompose herself.

When, she asked herself for the millionth time, will all this be over? She knew it wasn't her fault, yet still she carried the burden of Ali's death on her shoulder. She knew there was nothing she could have done, yet she still felt she should have done something. She knew she should have forgiven herself a long time ago, but still she had not.

When her breathing slowed a little, and not wanting to return to her torturous nightmares, Nikki made her way downstairs. At this time in the morning, caffeine always made everything seem better.

Noise reassured Nikki, which was why she liked the kitchen so much at these times. Appliances were always singing their own comforting lullaby: the hum of the fridge; the singing of the kettle; the rhythmic beat of the clock sat above the grill. When the kettle started to boil, Nikki reached for the coffee jar, only to realise something that horrified her: it was empty.

Nikki exhaled sharply. She needed coffee. There was nothing more to it; at half four in the morning, coffee was her survival.

In a moment of inspiration, Nikki remembered the little 24-hour supermarket on the other side of town. She could get coffee from there!

Hurriedly, she pulled on a pair of battered old trainers and a thin fleece over the baggy t-shirt and joggers she had worn to bed. At this early hour she doubted anyone would care much about what she was wearing, and even if they did, she was far too tired to be bothered.

Nikki found her way out of the house quickly, with money and keys safely loaded in her inner pocket, and securely locked the door before stepping out onto the street outside.

Here any sense of peace she had found in her kitchen departed her. Her mind kept flicking back to her nightmare; the darkness was a perfectly dressed stage for her demons.

It was chill out, much colder than Nikki had expected, but the shivers down her spine were not from the temperature. A sense of distrust rose in Nikki, causing her heart to pound against her ribcage. Flicking her eyes from side to side, she searched for the danger she knew must be there.

When the terror became unbearable, she broke into a run. Fear controlled her. Tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes. She fought to hold them back. Gripped by an unpredictable alarm, Nikki squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out thoughts of the past visions that haunted her.

With a jolt, Nikki was knocked back. She opened her eyes to perceive the very memory she had tried to avoid. No, wait it wasn't...

"Miss Boston?"


End file.
